Sunday, September 30, 2012

Proud of my vagina

This is a vanilla post but one I feel compelled to write. Ladies, vagina is not a dirty word! Your vulva and clitoris should be, like your hair, face and the rest of your body, pampered and taken care of.

Let me explain:

A few weeks ago I was in the mood for a good documentary. I get in these moods every so often when the urge to learn is very overpowering. I switched on my computer and searched for one (legally of course!).

After going through many different titles, I found one called Petals: Vagina Dialogues.

Petals: Vagina Dialogues

I figured that, since I was alone in the house and my husband, bless his heart, is not one who openly can talk about sex (and neither am I but I am trying to change that), I was going to man up (pun intended) and watch what I assumed was going to be a spin off of the Vagina Monologues. I grabbed a duster and began cleaning as I listened to the opening credits.

When I was in university, I had the opportunity to see the Vagina Monologue. I, unlike my more sexually liberated friends, thought that it was completely inappropriate! How dare these women speak about a part of the body which should be hidden, protected and preserved. Never ever should it be named. I had obviously learned everything I needed to know in health class. I knew the names of the different parts of anatomy and what role they played in procreation and that is all I every needed to know!



Hell no!

The documentary was about a photographer named Nick Karras who created a book purely of pictures of vaginas. At first my thoughts went where I am sure a lot of women go, he obviously was a pervert just looking to get between a woman's legs. This thought lasted about thirty seconds when I realized, as I looked at the pictures on the screen and listening to him explain that he had started this project when his girlfriend at the time didn't want anyone to see what she saw as her deformed vulva.

I was fascinated. I stopped cleaning, sat on my bed and watched the entire movie. The documentary then goes on to interview many different people, men and women, sex experts, joggers, mothers, people walking in the park etc. I learned more about my body's "forbidden garden" then I ever had in the first quarter of a century of life and all the thoughts about how I had assumed that my vulva was not shaped perfectly because it had never been like those pictures in health class melted away. The experts went on to explain how each vulva and clitoris was different and needed to be petted, stroked, and loved in different ways. Petted? Loved? Those words had never really entered my mind before when thinking about that part of my body. Other people's yes, but mine?

That was it, I had to look at my vulva. I had no idea what it actually looked like but I was determined to know. This was a part of my body that had been with me from the beginning and since I knew intimately the other 90% of my skin, I wanted to make up for lost time. There is was, in all it's glory. And I now have the knowledge to please it and take care of it properly.

It took me 78 minutes to realize that: 1. yes I was ashamed that I had a vagina and had wanted to talk about it, 2. no my vagina is not misshaped or weird even though I was sure it was, and 3. yes I can now say vagina to pretty much anyone, even the man I married without blushing.

I would really recommend watching the documentary if you have a chance, even if you are comfortable in your own skin. Embrace your body as you do other aspects of your life and learn to love what makes you different.

That's it for now!

Stay safe everyone!


Sunday, September 23, 2012

The Creative process (or lack there of) part three

I realized after I posted that I hadn't actually talked about writing a spanking scene at I shall try and rectify that in this post! I am finding that there is no one to steer my tangents back on topic here on the web so until I get a little more practiced I fear there may be some pretty off topic ones.

So in my attempt to stay on topic I will try and stick to headers.

While I have been writing stories and spanking scenes for a couple of years I feel like I am still very much in the beginning of the learning process. In a way I hope that continues because without the need to learn, we never improve.


I like reading stories which are written in the third person (he/she/it) because it often gives me insight in to both the spanker and spankee. The third person also allows the writer to extend the scene because it offers more chance for thought and doesn't rely on conversation to understand the other participant emotions and points of view.

I have never read a spanking story in the second person (you) but after giving it some thought might be fun to try and write one....

And that leaves my personal favourite to write in: the first person! Alright! If I'm honest, it might be the only one I can truly feel comfortable writing in. When I write I try to get into my characters head, imagine what they are thinking and feeling and being a spankee only it's rather difficult for me to get into the head of a spanker. I see the scene playing out in front of me.

I walked into the room, my shirt half unbuttoned as I began the shed the oppressive uniform I wore eight hours a day. I looked up from the last button, startled as the seated silhouette in front of me shifted, his clothing rustling against the straight back of the chair.

My stomach flipped as I remembered my promise to call if I had managed to make plans to meet a friend. I tossed the shirt I had slipped off my shoulders into the laundry basket. Debating my next move. I stayed near the door, slowly undoing my pant button and letting them drop to the floor. I grabbed an old pair of jeans from the basket, not wanting to risk having to cross the path of the creature in the shadows, who had now folded his arm across his chest.

"You won't be needing those for a while."

You get the picture. I have never been able to get into the spanker's head to my satisfaction and I applauded the many good authors who do on a regular basis. Choosing the voice is so important because it can really shape the way the story is written and how it is read.

Word Choice:

Let's face it, repeating the same words or phrases over and over does not a good story make. Sometimes one of the hardest things to me to do is find adjectives that fit the sentence. Often each word is just slightly different enough that it could change the tone or meaning of the sentence. Swat and smack are two such words, essentially meaning the same act but the intensity can be interpreted differently.

He swatted her behind as she danced past him, carefully keeping her eyes away from his and He smacked her behind as she danced past him, carefully keeping her eyes away from his denote two different tones to the scene. One is more playful and the other has a note of seriousness to it.

And with that said, I think I will leave my posts on the creative process for a while. Thanks to all who have suffered through them!

Stay Safe!


Saturday, September 22, 2012

NaNoWriMo is coming!

November is coming!

Every November I try and participate in NaNoWriMo which is National Novel Writing Month. The goal is to write a story with at least 50,000 words in one month (but if I'm honest I have already started). On the bar to the right I have put a word counter which has been set to 0 but I will be updating it every couple of days with my word count once the official start date (November 1st) has come.

Of course my goal is to have another spanking novel completed in a more timely manner (10 years is a bit to long of a timeline for me). I am looking forward to long nights, many cups of tea and a proud feeling when I have finally completed NaNoWriMo as planned!

I really hope that those of you thinking of writing a story or novel but have never gotten around to it or felt it was not plausible will join me in November for the upcoming NaNoWriMo! If you have already been writing for a while and want a challenge sign up here! You do not have to post your novel and it certainly does not have to be about spanking.

If any of you wish to join me I have figured out how to put a counter on this blog with many writers in it. Just email me your NaNoWriMo ID and I'll add the widget.

Stay safe and happy writing!


Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Happy International Speak like a Pirate Day!

Happy International Speak like a Pirate day!

How many of you would last through a spanking if you had to talk like a pirate? 

Arrrr....thay'rd be a challenge!

Stay safe!

P.s. How is it that when you type in spanking pirates you end up with a lot of cowboys?

Sunday, September 16, 2012

The creative process (or lack there of) Part 2

So how does one write a spanking scene? It's an important consideration after all when one does not get spanked on a regular basis!

I have read a lot of spanking stories in the 8 or so years I have been around "the scene." I have found the reactions to various stories really interested. Almost as interesting as the stories themselves (but not quite of course!).

The range of stories out there can be quite staggering and a bit overwhelming. There are very rough stories where dominance and pain seem to be the major draw. There are light stories where there is only hints of a spanking or just a threat.

Just like there are different types of food preferences in the world, it stands to reason that there are different tastes of spanking/bdsm/ttwd/whatever label you want to put on it. Is one better than the other? That's like saying that a grain of sand in the Bay of Fundy is better than one in British Columbia. There is no scale, you can't measure it. It shouldn't be measured. It should be analyzed, thought about, talked about, but never can you say one is better overall than another.

Even labels can be confusing. I really dislike the term "spanking purest" which seems to be a new one out there but that seems to be the label I fit under best. Purist has such a negative undertone in my mouth. I don't have any desire to be tied up, belted, switched etc. Do I think it's weird that someone would? Absolutely not! I know some people find pleasure in being tied up and if I'm honest it does kind of fascinates me. I just couldn't fathom that right now in my life (might have something to do with my so called "control issues") but  to each their own.

And back to the original post: the creative process. I think when one is writing spanking fiction/non-fiction, the reason behind the story has to be true to the author. I don't write my stories for an audience. I write for myself. If no one enjoys the stories, I'll be disappointed but that wouldn't stop me from writing it. I hope that other writers would feel the same way because writing is most definitely an art, just like painting or sewing. It's something for the soul, a means of communication.

That being said I know that there are a range of readers too. Some readers always skip right to the spanking bits (I'll admit I have been guilty of this when the story is not something I can get into) while others read the story completely every time. I would imagine most are somewhere in between.

Which leads me to the point I was planning on making in the first place! The reason for writing spanking stories vary as much as the people themselves. For some, the whole story is the spanking, with little happening before or after. Others write long novels with complicated plots, meaningful messages, and  thought provoking ideas with the spanking only adding to the story. Every story in the gambit has it's place and purpose. I read the quick stories when I am in the mood for an upshot, I read the novels when I have time to get into the characters and the plots. Without the range, we would not be able to reach as many people as we do.

I personally write my stories while adding little bits of spanking in them without diving deeper into those scenes until the very end of the process. I write the rest of the story first because that determines the spankings later on in context. The personalities of the characters come out much more blatantly in the events and conflicts which happen within the plot line and I found that when I started writing longer stories I had to walk away from some because the spanking has coloured the rest of the plot too much. Now I try to make it so it enhances the story.

This post is getting quite long and hasn't quite turned out like I thought it would! However, I have spent way too much time sitting in front of the computer. Time to go enjoy nature. I think I will have to save the rest for a part three.

I hope you have enjoyed my little thought trips.

Stay safe everyone!


Thursday, September 13, 2012

The creative process (or lack there of) Part 1

Humans are obsessed with process. We have step by step instructions to do everything from cooking food, make crafts or play games. In school we were taught about the "writing process." We had to have an outline, a rough draft, a good copy...

Let's just say I never did very well on those projects.

I write like I live: Haphazardly and very much in the moment. I day dream. A lot. More than I should really. This is why I prefer not to drive.

I always have several stories going through my head. The story I work on that day depends on the mood I'm in, which is usually attached to a main character. Something as simple as the scent of broken pine needles is enough to send my mind way away from whatever I am suppose to be done (such as housework) and into a forest scene where the heroine is strolling nonchalant, about to do something to earn herself a spanking in the quiet solitude of the sandy terrain of the dense pine forest. Pine cone projectiles, anyone?

Of course there has been no forest in the story so far and I have to now find a way to connect it with the other tid-bits and lines that have popped onto the page. That just adds to the fun of writing!

How to you write? Is it all one fluid story or is it haphazard sentences you weave into a workable plot line. Do you find yourself writing your main characters based on real people or are they completely from your mind? Are blogs more your thing?

What's your favourite writing snack?

Stay safe!

(The ever curious)

Sunday, September 9, 2012

Kitchen Chairs

I wrote this story a number of years ago when I was trying to find my "voice". I hope you enjoy!

Kitchen Chairs

In hindsight it was probably not the best plan but he was busy playing a computer game that had recently come out. Star something or other with explosions, guns, and violence which, I'll admit, had a pretty interesting storyline but I held no interest whatsoever in games such as this.

I was hungry. The snack food had been placed on the very top shelf of our very tiny galley kitchen. Obviously he had not been thinking clearly when placing the delectable and completely nutrition-lacking chips and cookies on the unreachable shelf high above my head, mocking me.

Knowing his dislike for my habitual use of chairs as ladders, I glanced over at the computer and saw to my satisfaction that he was distracted by an onslaught of bug-like creatures. Grabbing a kitchen chair from the "dining room" which was little more than a juice box, I lifted it up from the ground and placed it quietly underneath the offending high cupboard. I stepped gingerly onto the chair and was so distracted momentarily by the close proximity of my ultimate goal, Zesty Doritos, that I did not hear the rolling of the computer chair.

I did, however, hear the “what the hell do you think you are doing?”

I froze precariously on the rickety chair. I have never been good at coming up with quick explanations in a pinch and unfortunately this time was no exception. The most I could stammer out was a childish “ummm...” I thought it was pretty obvious that I wanted food but the way he was glaring at me made me think twice about going down that route.

Two steps into the kitchen had his arm around my thighs in his shoulder against my hipbone. “Turn this way.”

I knew where this was going. “I can get down myself.”

“I have” he glanced over at the computer than back at me, “three minutes and 42 seconds to deal with you or you could wait up after the match after which I will have hours upon hours.” I took the hint and turned. Over his shoulder I went.

"Why three minutes and 42 seconds?” I asked on the way to the bedroom where I was unceremoniously dumped on the bed. I glanced at the clock.

"Because I died and I will be regenerated in that amount of time.” He was rummaging in the top drawer of his dresser. “ Unbutton your jeans.”

I tried my best to pout and saw it brought a smile to his face which he tried to hide. This was still new to him and while he liked to pretend this was my “thing,” I knew he enjoyed this playful exchange.

Two minutes and 90 seconds.

"Over you go” There was something hidden behind his back. This was never a good sign.

I crawled over the bed and lay upon his lap. Pants were pulled down and his hand was promptly applied with gusto.

"I assume you know why you are here?” It was barely a question as he quickly peppered my backside with rapid sharp spanks.

I arched my back and pointed my toes. “Yep!” I stated in between caught breaths. I propped myself up on my elbows.

One minute 30 seconds.

My panties were stripped and I felt something cool with a smooth side resting on my already warmed cheeks.

"What have you got back there?” I asked, beginning to turn around. “Shit!”The word came out of my mouth before I could stop it when plastic connected with flesh.

"Excuse me?”

“Umm...ouch?” I shrugged and tried to look cute and cuddly. “Wait, is that my missing hair brush?”

An evil grin had crept across his face. “You had two, I thought I could put this one to better use.”

“Now wait a...ow!”I tried to get up but was pushed down and another swat applied to the other side. I wasn’t going anywhere but I still liked to try. I thought about putting my hands back to offer my poor bottom some ounce of protection but the thought of having my hands swatted didn’t appeal to me. His aim, while improving, still had some way to go.

“Ten for swearing.”

“Are the first ones included?”

“The previous two?”

“Glad you can still count,” I muttered quietly, taking the moment to rub some of the sting out of my behind.

“Let’s make it fifteen!” He stated cheerfully.

“Oh goodie...”

One minute.

“Count from three.”

“Please would be nice...Three!” I sucked in air through my teeth and braced for the next. “Four. Five. Dam...rn. Six.” There was a pause. He began to rub his hand lightly over my reddened bottom and I began to relax. Maybe he wasn’t that heartless...

The seventh landed quickly and with precision. “Seven oooh you are evil!”

“And you almost swore. Would you like me to add five more on or just keep to the fact that I am a loving husband who doesn’t like the idea of taking you to the hospital with another concussion?”

“Keep to the facts”

“Good choice”

30 seconds.

The next seven landed on target but sporadically. I was never quite sure where they would end up but I managed to keep the words going through my head in my head.

There was a pause before the last and final stinging smack reverberated off the walls. I grunted than breathed a sigh of relief as he put the hairbrush down.

“Going to do that again?”

“No sir.” Spoken more than a little sarcastically.

“Did you enjoy that?”

I smirked a little and didn’t answer. I got up and he stormed off to his computer, feet thumping as he stepped. By the time I had pulled up my pants and made myself semi-presentable, he was already back to squishing bugs. He grinned at me and turned back to the screen.

A thought occurred to me. “But what about my chips?!?”

© Felicia Nemo 2010

Saturday, September 8, 2012

I have a question for you bloggers...

I have been trying to figure out if I am able to have multiple short stories under one tab. So far I have only managed to have one story on top of the other. Does anyone know a way to do this?

I have several short stories I want to post but I am afraid they will create a huge page which is not desirable. Any assistance would be appreciated!

Conflict within...

Despite all the horrible things happening in the world, we do live in a wonderful age. Women in particular have found a voice and gained rights that 150 years ago would have been thought of as unheard of.

Women have a lot to thank women's liberation for:
1. The right to vote
2. The right to work (and be fairly paid for that work)
3. The option to attend any type of educational program (such as medical)
4. The right to divorce
5. The right to be in a non-abusive relationship

The list goes on and on!

I love women's lib. I cannot imagine my life without it. I am the first to cry foul when women are not treated equal as men. I am the first to point out that women have a lot to offer in many fields such as politics, law enforcement etc. Women need to be an integral part of the solution to global warming and world hunger.

Women are strong, independent creatures who don't need to rely on men anymore for their survival!

But there is a problem....

There was now pressure that women needed to be independent. When I was growing up, looking forward to starting a family was expected (thank you sex education) but planning on being a stay-at-home mother was frowned upon. I can understand the need to make sure you are able to support yourself but when a teenager who is being told that when (and not really if) she starts a family she needs to be able to work at the same time as raising them. I had always thought that I would be working while starting a family as most of us where I was had both parents working. It stunned me though, at the age of 13, that it was not something that was accepted. Not encouraged I get. But not accept?

Sex education is a great thing and now that I see it as an adult I am glad that the sentiment is not there as much. Boys now have the options to be stay at home father with less of the stigma that existed even five years ago. I am sure it is different depending on where you live but where I live in Canada, among people of my generation, it doesn't even merit a bat of an eye.

So what does this post have to do with spanking? Glad you asked!

Feminism/Women's lib, like all good intentioned movements, can cause unforeseen consequences. Society went from women being the good homemaker, bare foot and in the kitchen, to having to make their mark on the work world. For a while, at least from where I stood, there was no happy median. I not saying that every place in the world went through the same transformation, not by any means, and some have not even gotten to that point, but for the western part of society I am in, this is pretty much the norm.

Now to the point: Wanting to be spanked went against every feminist fiber of my being. I was not suppose to submit myself to anyone. I had a really hard time coming to terms with this because women are suppose to be so strong therefore of course they should never want to be spanked, even for fun. I might have also had control issues but that's another post!

Abuse is not acceptable, no matter your age, race, gender, or sex. I think there was a mentality with me that obviously if I wanted to be spanked, that I was ok with being abused and that was in no way acceptable.

I am starting to move past that mentality. I am a recovering ultra-feminist where having it all is not what is expected but a choice I can make. It's a slow process, and there are slips, but I will make it. Perhaps this is why I write historical fiction where it's easier to make those decisions? Literarily speaking of course! (Yes I know that's not a word but it make sense to me!)

Women's liberation has taught me many things but one of the most important one is that I have the right to choose. I can choose to be a stay-at-home mom. I can choose to live in a relationship when I can submit without feeling shamed. I can be spanked without submitting. I can be a woman without being defined by feminisim.

Society as a whole just needs to catch up now.

Stay safe!


Thursday, September 6, 2012

Cold fish and chilly cauliflower

Hey all,

I find inspirations for quick little stories everywhere. I don't know about you, but my mind comes up with dialog from the stranges of things, such as this quick story concerning cauliflower. Enjoy!

Good things almost never happen when I am bored. Being bored and in the kitchen is often a dangerous combination.

I was home alone after a less than stimulating day at work, answering mundane questions to people who really shouldn’t be allowed near a piece of electrical equipment. I knew Greg, my boyfriend, would be home an hour later, leaving to me the task of making us something to eat.

I sat on the couch, looking up recipes which would rid us of the over abundance of cauliflower that was starting to turn in our fridge. Idly, between a picture of lemon slices and bacon bit covered cauliflower and a casserole covered in cheese was a platter of steamed cauliflower covered in saran wrap. The plastic food covering popped a strange idea I had been meaning to try for some time.

Taking the box of plastic wrap from a kitchen drawer, I made my way up the stairs stealthily for no particular reason as the cat was the only witness to the crime and he was not likely to rat on me. Stretching the plastic wrap over the door of our bedroom, I taped it to the side of the door frame on both sides before stepping back to survey my handy work. From the get go, I had major doubts that this would work but I had seen enough youtube videos to prove its effectiveness as a practical joke. The cat sat beside me, meowing loudly at the plastic which was now suspended face high on the door frame.

I picked up the box of plastic wrap and returned it to the drawer. Grinning, I set about the task of cutting up the cauliflower and decided that the cheese sauce was the way to go. Greg liked cheese sauce and would placate any ill feelings.

I had almost finished baking the fish and cauliflower in the oven when I heard the car pull in to the driveway. I ducked into the bathroom, not wanting to put him on guard with some signal he usually picked up when I was planning something.


“Hi!” I called out, “I’m just in the bathroom.”

I paused, listening as he headed up stairs. I cracked open the door, grinning when I heard the squish of the plastic wrap and a few choice words from Greg’s mouth.


I dashed into the kitchen, pulling the fish and vegetables out of the oven and grabbing the cheese out of the fridge. “What?”

“Get up here now!”

‘Hmm’ I thought to myself as I tried to find the grater that had gone missing yet again in the tiny kitchen. He seemed surprisingly mad. “I’m getting dinner ready!”

There was a pause before he started thumping down the stairs. He had changed with incredible speed and in his haste he had buttoned up his shirt wrong. I didn’t think it was the best time to tell him that.

“What is this?” he cocked his head to one side and I couldn’t help but giggle. He reminded me of a little puppy dog.

“You really need to start cooking more if you have no idea what that is,” I said, glancing at the scrunched up plastic wrap in his hand before returning to my search for the illusive grater.

Plastic scrunched and I heard it go into the trash can. My thoughts went briefly to the fact that he had just wasted a perfectly useful piece of wrap before they started to wonder why I was dangling a foot in the air.

“Hey! Let me go! What do you think you are doing?”

He, as usual, ignored my demands which was so often the case. I mean, seriously? I was expected to listen and respond during a conversation but apparently he was not required to. Double standard!


He speaks! Well, yells. We had made it to the foot of the stairs when I managed to break free. I turned around and try to pout. “It was just a joke!”

I was twirled around gracefully and ordered “Up. Stairs.” Each word followed by a stinging smack to my bottom.

“Ow! Fine...geez! Don’t blame me if you eat cold food tonight,” I grumbled as I managed to back myself up the stairs and into the bedroom.

“Drop your jeans.”

My stomach fluttered slightly as I eyed him, trying to judge his mood. I decided to take a chance. “Tit for tat?”


Uh oh. I noticed he had one hand behind his back and he had started to smirk. Not a good sign. I started to unbutton my jeans as he took a seat on the bed. Grabbing my arm and guiding me over his lap, he gave me a chance to adjust myself so I was lying comfortably with my legs on the bed. I couldn’t be in that much trouble than if I was allowed this small amount of freedom.

“So why are you getting spanked this time?”

Oh come on, it’s been at least a week! “Just keeping it fresh!”


“Well, that’s what it said on the box,” I mumbled, trying desperately to keep my panties in place as he started to pull him down.

“You don’t get to keep those,” he said mildly. “Not even when you’re being good.”

Sighing, I let him draw my panties down to my knees, curling my toes at the sensation of air on bare skin. He started to smack my bottom rhythmically as I lay there, enjoying the warmth that was building on my posterior. These were not the sharp spanks I had felt on the stairs. They were surprisingly pleasant.

I grabbed a pillow for my head, sinking into oblivion before he rudely interrupted my descent into Zen mode. “How much saran wrap do you think you wasted on your joke?”

“Hmmm? I don’t know. You were the one who threw it out.”

“I think at least 60 centimetres,” he stated before pausing and reaching behind him.

Damn! The stupid wooden spoon I kept hiding was in his hand. “No way! That hurts at least 5 times as much as your hand!”

“Ok, so divide 60 by 5 and that’s how many you are getting.”

“Did I say 5? I totally meant 10,” I said hopefully before yelping the sting the piece of firewood created on my already rosy backside.

“You sure? I could have sworn you said twice as much...”

“Nope, definitely five.”

“Oh good. And that one didn’t count, but you will be.”

I kicked up my legs at the first contact of wood to skin. “Ow! That was way too hard for play!”

He paused, chuckling as he held me down on his lap. “I never said we were playing. You had a laugh at my expense and now I get some stress relief at yours.” He landed another stinging smack as I tried to settle myself down again.


“Oh no, you missed one. Let’s start again!”

I groaned but bit my tongue as that piece of tinder bit into my skin. “One!”

“Very good!” Greg said cheerfully as he landed another.

“Two,” I stretched out, trying to get out of reach but failed miserably. I made it to twelve before he put the spoon down, rubbing aloe onto my reddened bum as I lay there, soaking up his gentle touch. He continued to rub as I yawned, lying peacefully over his lap.

“Dinner’s cold by now,” I said, sighing happily into the pillow.

“I think you need another spanking for that,” he said, before slapping my behind gently.

I stuck out my tongue at him.

We dined late on cold fish, chilly cauliflower and hot cheese sauce.
Copyright Felicia Nemo 2012